Fifteen Minutes More

by All Art Is Quite Useless

A Waking Slumber

The view from the hill was indeed splendid, as was the company. For a minute they may have sat there, or perhaps an hour. It was hard to tell, as there was scarcely any conversation to mark the passage of time, and the facsimile of the sun remained anchored in place, the one abnormality Luna found in this perfect dream. Here, the day was constantly at its apex.

Macintosh sat on his haunches, roughly three paces from her, while Luna – foregoing courtesy – chose to lay on her belly, allowing the sun’s rays to hit her, warming her body and spirit equally.

Maybe it was her tendency to sleep through the day that made the experience feel so magical, or maybe it was the comfortable silence she was able to enjoy. In an empty dream, she could have silence, she could lock away her thoughts and not worry about the negatives, but here she felt free to cast out her mind, to feel everything around her, and she had a stoic support through all of it.

When an immeasurable amount of time had passed in their impossible paradise, Macintosh turned to her. What Luna found odd was that he didn’t speak at first, but then, she found many things odd about him. When it seemed like an hour had passed in their frozen world and his lips remained still, slightly parted, Luna decided he needed a little encouragement. “Something on your mind?” she said, turning to face him with a wry smile, “I didn’t take you for a shy stallion.”

“Most often,” he grinned back, “but I wouldn’t say I’m timid either, miss.”

There it was again, that thing he did. “I have a question, actually. Why is it that you insist on calling me ‘miss’? You know of my role, know of my station, and know of my title. You would think that you would either call me ‘princess’ or just ‘Luna’.”

Macintosh made a short ‘tsk’ noize, but the laughter didn’t fully reach his eyes. “You’d let me call you by jus’ your name, huh?”

Well, I am encroaching on your dream, I suppose that’s only—hold on a second. “You’re dodging the question. Why do you call me it?”

“I’ve gotta say, that’s quite a funny thing you’re asking there. A lot of mares have asked me that same question in the past, and I reckon it’s ‘cause they’re so used to colts that ain’t got no manners. Me? I like to treat a mare with a little respect. My own grandmother is a miss to me, when she’s threatenin’ to tan my hide or what have you. She won’t take none of that ‘yes, granny’ in them situations either, it’s ‘miss’ every time. Tell me, if I use that term for my own family, why shouldn’t it be good ‘nough for you?”

It took Luna a few moments to recover from the words ‘a lot of mares’, but once she had, she sat there trying to process all the information she had been given. It didn’t take her long, but she soon realised that there was hardly a defence she could give without insulting his grandmother. She imagined that his family values were one of his greatest virtues. Rather than think up a riposte, she commented on the only thing she could. “I believe that’s the most words I’ve got out of you since I met you.”

Macintosh let loose a small chuckle, his eyes returning to the thriving farmland. “Tried asking me an open question up till now?”

Luna had to actively stop herself from tilting her head. “So that’s it? I’ve just not been asking the right questions?”

“I reckon so. Again, forgive my manners, but I don’t take you for a stupid mare, Miss Luna. I imagine you can infer my meanings without me wastin’ an hour blabberin’ on. ‘Sides, don’t hurt to be a bit of an economist with the spoken word.”

Luna’s brow furrowed as she thought over what he said. “I don’t see the problem? Surely one of the many wonderful things about language is that you’re able to communicate and express yourself freely, without limitation?”
“There’s more to communication than havin’ an eloquent vocabulary, miss. Look how I’m sitting right now, what’s that tell you?”

Luna studied Macintosh on command, her eyes tracing his from, rippling with muscle and sinew beneath a soft fur. At first, she had considered him to be alert in his posture, his arched back suggesting that he could be back on his feet at a moment’s notice, but when she examined him more closely she found that not one of his muscles appeared taut. Despite his position, he looked truly relaxed. “It tells me that you’re used to working, as well as taking short breaks to recuperate.”

“But you could already guess that. What else?”

“Hmm…” Perhaps she was looking at this wrong, perhaps it was something more external? Luna surveyed the surroundings, briefly looking to herself and then back to Macintosh, who now seemed to sit about two paces from her. Suddenly, she jolted up, triumphant. “Aha! Proxemics! You are comfortable being close to me!”

“W-well, yeah, you could say that. I mean, it’s not what I was going for, but—”

“It matters not!” Luna grinned, hopping into the air and splaying her wings. “You are comfortable being close to me, and that means you like me!” Luna proceeded to swoosh around in the air overhead, gliding with a large grin on her face. “And I like you also!”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down.”

Luna’s flight slowed, as did her breath. “Is there a problem?”

“I ain’t sayin’ that. All I’m sayin’ is that I’ve just met ya now, and we ain’t even in the real world at this second. You seem like a nice mare, Miss Luna, most definitely, but I’d like to get to know you a little bit before we start proclaimin’ who ‘likes’ who, you hear?”

Feeling like an insufferable foal, Luna and her excitement returned to earth. “I-I believe you misunderstand, Macintosh. When I said ‘like’, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant ‘like’ as in ‘I like you in a platonic, friendly way’, that kind of like.”

A second of contemplation, and Macintosh appeared contented. “Like that, huh?”

“Yes, just like that,” Luna nodded.

“Glad we got that straightened out nice and easy.”

“As am I,” Luna nodded once more, the movement mechanical.

The pair quickly returned to silence. It had been a lie to say her feelings were purely platonic and Luna knew it. She could easily, unashamedly say that she felt attraction for Macintosh, and she had a vague idea of why. He was clearly smarter than he let on, and unlike most stallions he didn’t appear to offer every endearing feature he could musteron a plate in order to woo her. Whether it was his desired effect or not, this just made Luna believe that he was hiding some reasonably special traits from her, and made her equally eager to unearth them.

He had been polite, allowing her to stay in his dream without hassle, and even electing to join her on the hill, he had been interesting to talk to, as much for the things he didn’t say as the things he did, and to top it off he really was quite pleasant on the eyes.

Her reverie was broken by a jolt from Macintosh, who appeared to be alarmed. Looking at the field once more, she noticed that the details were beginning to appear vague.

“What’s happenin’?” he asked, something resembling fear in his eyes.

“Relax,” she returned, “You are beginning to wake. It is half past five, is that a usual waking hour for you?”

He did relax, almost instantly. “Sounds about right. I’m tending the fields by six.”

Luna had scarcely met a pony so calm and collected. In the past, when she had tried to explain this happening to other dreaming ponies, they had taken a great deal of consoling to calm, as their fabricated world began to fade. “It is a shame, I would have liked to stay here a time longer.”

“I take it you can’t stick around once I’ve gone, ‘cause I’ll take the dream with me?”

“As a matter of fact, that isn’t entirely the case.” Luna didn’t look at Macintosh when she spoke her next words, they felt unpleasant on her tongue. “I did not realise at first, but the dreamscape actually keeps an archive of each pony’s dream, meaning that I could go and visit this place again at any time, and it would be exactly as it has been.”

She could feel Macintosh’s eyes on her then, even as the dream began to slip further. “I feel there’s somethin’ foreboding in your tone there, Miss Luna. I assume there’s a problem with goin’ to these old dreams?”

Looking back to him, fighting the pained expression on her face in an effort to retain her composure, Luna nodded. “Everything will be the same. The dream would look the same, it would be the same length, and you would still be here. However, it wouldn’t really be you.”

It didn’t take long for him to catch on. “...It would be the same me that met you in them trees earlier, wouldn’t it? I wouldn’t have no recollection of what’s just occurred, would I?”
Luna fought back a grimace, trying hard not to think of her experiences delving into such dreams. “Exactly. The presence of the dream is infinite, and it will always remain within the dreamscape. I will always have access to it. But the Macintosh I meet there will be but an apparition, and we would likely have these same conversations again. And when it ends, as all dreams do, it would be reset once more.”

“That sounds…” For once, the stallion of few words seemed at a loss for one. His eyes widening, as if he had made some terrible realisation, his tone became sombre. “Harrowin’.”

Luna wished he had the slightest idea of just how painful such a thing could be. “Do you think you could—” she looked out to the fields, they barely retained their colour. The sun cast no light, and the dream’s expanse had been reduced to a fifth of its previous span. “Could you stay? This has been so short, and—”

Macintosh looked at the floor, rather than her. “I’m sorry, miss. I think I’m already wakin’. I can feel myself stirrin’. I’ve gotta go do my job.”

“Not just for a little longer?” Luna all but pleaded, the prospect of a bit more time the only goal to strive for. With a burst of her magic, the dream was almost perfect once more. “Look, I have fixed it. Surely you could stay but fifteen minutes more?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Luna, but I’ve gotta get up. I got family relyin’ on me to do my job properly. It’s been swell meetin’ you though, I wouldn’t mind doin’ it again sometime.”

“You… You wouldn’t?”

“I’ll dream again, won’t I?” he smiled then, his eyes bright, and like that he was gone, as were the fields, the sun, the trees, the lone apple, and even the hill she had sat upon.

It was all so sudden, so quickly she had been cast into the blackness without warning, even if she had felt it creeping up on her long ago. Instantly, she ended her spell, finding herself standing on her balcony, tears liberally streaming down her face.

Wiping her eyes, she clambered into bed, feeling the exhaustion hit her at once. Placing the same barriers around her mind as she had been for days now, she feel into an empty sleep, though the wistful feeling never fully faded.

---

When Celestia had tried to wake her the next afternoon, she had protested. When she had made true her previous promise and poured a cup of water over her, she had laid still, allowing herself to be soaked. When Celestia expressed legitimate concern, she finally left her mental cocoon and did everything she could to placate her sister. She lied, telling her that she was having a wonderful dream that she didn’t wish to wake from, not daring to express her attempts to protect herself.

When she had cast her spell, too quickly did she consider relapsing. Once the immediate nightmares had been taken care of, Luna shirked her duties to find one of many particular dreams, one she was extremely familiar with. When she arrived, she sat perched on the edge of its memory, considering invading once more. The once familiar surroundings, the mare that sat inside awaiting her, it was all so inviting, but equally false.

It was a memory, it was nothing more than a memory, and that’s all it would ever be. Going there wouldn’t change anything, it would only serve to send her back to square one, and she wouldn’t fuel her obsession any longer. Still, as much as she knew it was in her power, she couldn’t bring herself to purge these dreams from the dreamscape, it was too much.

Returning to her duties, she cast away bad dreams with impunity, not taking the time to weave more pleasant scenarios into them, but stifling them all together until they became nothing. Some ponies wouldn’t dream that night, but it was better than having a nightmare, surely.

Once she had stolen her fair share of horrors and frights, Luna simply sat, monitoring the conduits between the waking world and this realm, watching as ponies fell into slumber and their dreams floated by.

Minutes turned to hours, and still not once did she see the same farm from the night previous. Had Macintosh ceased to dream? Had he and his farm chosen to abandon her?

That was irrational. It was ten by now, surely he was asleep somewhere, she would just have to seek him out. Casting her mind about the dreamscape, she searched for a pony that matched his energy patterns. It took a little time, but she found what she was looking for.

When she reached the dream, she had to check to be sure it was the same Macintosh she had met before, the dream didn’t seem fitting whatsoever. Still, her eyes rarely lied, nor did her magic, and after a time she concluded that despite how unlikely it seemed, she had in fact stumbled across Macintosh’s dream.

---

John Apple Macintosh looked out at the bustling city of Manehatten from his office chair, a small smile on his muzzle. Before him, a mass of papers sat, lines and scrawls painted across from impossibly scruffy mouthwriting. He would have called it his own codex if asked, as he knew his cursive was barely legible to anyone but himself, but that would just be an attempt to save face, he truly couldn’t write neatly to save his life.

Taking his eyes from the large, oval window, he proceeded to run numbers on an investment deal he was planning to propose to his consortium by the end of the quarter. As he tackled a particularly difficult sum, his concentration was broken by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he called, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone. When he saw who was on the other side of the door, he relaxed somewhat. “Can I help, Cottage?”

His secretary smiled, shaking her head. “No, sir, but there is someone to see you. Said her name was Lulinetta, unicorn mare.”

“Right, no problem. You just go an’ send her in, then you take yourself a little breather, you’ve been up and down like a rabbit on a pogo stick today.”

“Yes, sir, thank you. I’ll send her in right away.” Cottage happily trotted away, leaving Macintosh alone with his thoughts.

Lulinetta? Where have I heard that name before? He sat and he thought, but nothing came to him. When he had just about given up, the door opened once more, and a pony that was unmistakably Princess Luna strode through, dressed in a slender green coat that hid her wings.

He knew it was Princess Luna because he remembered it from yesterday’s dream. The dream he had been having about being on the farm… Because he still lived on the farm, and none of this was real. It took only a second for the illusion to be shattered; Big Macintosh was no more a businesspony living in Manehatten than he was a minotaur. Suddenly in tune with his thoughts and memories, he was unsure whether he was disappointed or relieved by the fact.

Luna cut off his thoughts with a smile, gesturing out of the large window, pausing to take in the view. “This is stunning… And not what I imagined I’d find here at all.”

“I did say I had other dreams,” Big Macintosh offered, his reply almost curt.

“You did…” Luna trailed off, laughing a little to herself. “You know, we do have to stop meeting like this...” she seemed to eye the nameplate on his desk, “Mr. Macintosh,” she winked.

Comments

[PrinceKatana]

8462083
Awesome! Now I have two chapters to read!

[Pony_Person_123]

So is he still a farmer or a business pony?

[All Art Is Quite Useless]

8462397
Still a farmer as always, just dreaming about being something else.

AAIQU

[Pony_Person_123]

8462402
What dose AAIQU mean

[alfonso_rd_33]

8462422
look at is ID